Hold Up
by save changes to normal
Summary: All they wanted was a couple of cheeseburgers. But with Ben and Riley, is it ever that simple?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is for all of you who requested another NT fic. I didn't think I'd get it up this soon, but I decided to make it multiple chapters instead of a one-shot. Hope it's enjoyed!

--Cue cheesy announcer music-- sarahofearth, this one's for you!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and I'm not making any money. Sure. Rub it in.

_Riley_

First of all, before anything else, let's get one thing straight. I'm not a hero. I've never been a hero; I never will be a hero; and I've never had any real desire to become a hero. Heck, the most experience I've ever had with heroics in general is when I stuck up for this cute blonde girl when she was being teased by a big mean kid named Alex in the fifth grade. Of course, I ended up getting my butt handed to me in front of the entire playground. That bully. It didn't help any that "Alex" was of the female variety. I'm about 98 percent sure it was the weight of that humiliation that stunted my growth. But seriously, freckles and pig tails aside, that chick had arms like Hulk Hogan, and she was definitely going through her "bad guy" phase.

But anyway, the point is, while I'm no hero, I seem to attract more trouble than Lois Lane. And she at least had Superman to back her up. Who do I have? A mean Declaration lady and a history buff. Geeze. Life really isn't fair, is it? But that is a very important part of this story.

Here's what happened. Me and Ben and Abi were in New York, special guests at this big gala deal celebrating a new exhibit opening in the New York Museum of Art. It featured some of the junk we found on our "redefining history for all mankind" adventure. It was kind of a big deal. There was media everywhere, big important people; I had to wear a _tux._I'm not gonna lie. I looked good. But I can't stand those things. Ben forced me to wear those shiny, uncomfy shoes. And I mean forced. He pulled my sneakers right off my feet and held them over the toilet bowl until I agreed to wear the "right ones." Then Abigail nearly strangled me with the bowtie.

So I basically sulked around for three or four lifetimes--hours--smiling pretty for the cameras and clinking glasses with the bigwigs until it was finally over and we could leave. The minute we were back in the limo, I pulled off those accursed shoes and slid my feet into my trusty sneakers. I mean come on. Converse shoes have been around for like ever. Why mess with a good thing? "I don't know how people wear those," I said seriously, kicking at the stiff dress shoe. "I mean, who designs these things? Isn't torture frowned upon in this country? This is the United States, people."

Abigail gave me a look. "Pardon me if I don't hold much pity for you." She looked down at her own feet. Ouch. She was wearing those little strappy, spikey kind of shoes girls wear.

"My point exactly," I said. "What's the deal with everybody killing themselves to look good? I say next time we show up in jeans and T-shirts to make all the beautiful, uncomfortable people realize how ridiculous and shallow they are."

Ben shot Abi one of those lofty kind of looks he gives her whenever he wants to come off like the mature, responsible one but really secretly agrees with me. "Somebody's grouchy."

"I always get grouchy when my blood sugar gets this dangerously low," I retorted, tugging at my bowtie. "That food they had in there was awful. I'm pretty sure some of it was still alive."

"Most of that food in there probably cost more than my salary at the archives," Abigail informed me with one of her Looks. Sheesh. I wasn't the only one who was cranky.

I snorted. "What's that tell you?"

"Just order room service when we get back to the hotel, Riley," Ben cut in, obviously trying to preempt an argument. He didn't get that I was _trying_ to start an argument. Just for kicks. My night had been that boring. Or maybe he did get it. Either way.

"Come on. We're in New York. The night's still young-ish. Let's go find someplace with real food. I don't want to spend another night trapped in a hotel."

"A five-star hotel with restaurants, swimming pools, and basically every other luxury known to man," Abigail reasoned, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Come on," I pleaded. I turned to Ben. "Let's just go get cheeseburgers or something real quick. I want to do something normal. Let's go be normal for a second, Ben." I paused and added as innocently as I could, "Please?"



_Ben_

Ugh, he's doing that thing with his eyes again. That wide-eyed, innocent, you're-my-best-friend-in-the-whole-world look I'm relatively sure he designed specifically to make me melt. I could feel my defenses crumbling. "You know, I could probably go for a cheeseburger," I said, cringing inwardly. If Abigail and I ever have children, and Uncle Riley teaches them that look, they will be the most spoiled rotten kids in the world. I looked at Abigail, trying to save face. "Wouldn't you like a cheeseburger?"

She crossed her arms. "I'm not going into a burger joint dressed like this. I'll wait here, thank you."

Wildly grinning, Riley sat forward and told the limo driver to take us to the place with the best-tasting, greasiest burgers in town. The man's name was Jerry. Riley had immediately taken to calling him "James" in a cheesy British accent. Of course, he did that with all our drivers. "Thank you, James," he said sitting back, looking altogether pleased with himself.

It didn't take long to get there. As soon as the limo stopped, Abigail leaned forward and smacked Riley on the side of the head. "Bring me back a burger. No onions," she ordered.

Riley smirked and, quite characteristically, stuck out his tongue at her before scrambling out of the car. She rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. I went to follow my friend, but she stopped me with a hand on my arm. "You know you're a pushover?" she asked.

I thought about protesting. What would be the point? "Yes. I got that."

I assumed she was going to scold me. She surprised me with a kiss before shoving me out the door. "Hurry, back with my food," she called.

I grinned, following Riley into what looked like one of those mom and pop's type restaurants. It didn't look like much, but there were cars in the parking lot even after ten o'clock, so apparently they did a lot of business. That was encouraging.

A young lady came up to us and asked how many were in our party, looking us up and down. I guessed they didn't get frequented by people in tuxedoes very often. While I told her we'd be taking our meals to go, Riley spotted a large aquarium full of exotic fish and made a beeline straight for it in true Riley form. He has one of those attention spans that allows him to sit and stare at a computer screen for hours without looking up, but show him something pretty or shiny, and he's off like a kindergartner at Disneyland who's just spotted Mickey. I ordered for us and went to stand next to him while they prepared the food.

I glanced at him and couldn't help but smile. He really did look like a kindergartner on his first trip to Disneyland, standing there completely enraptured by the colorful fish with his tux all rumpled, sneakers on his feet, tie hanging untied around his neck, and his cummerbund upside down (wonder how he got past Abigail with that one). I made a mental note to take him diving with me sometime. If I could get him past the "Are there like sharks or jellyfish down there?" I bet he'd have a great time.

"Ben, we should get one of these," he said after realizing I was there.

"If you're good I'll put it on your Christmas list."

He finally tore his eyes away from the fish to give me an odd look. "But…" Then he realized I was kidding. Sometimes it takes awhile for him to switch gears. He mock-coughed. "Sorry, I think your sense of humor just sucked all the moisture out of the air."

"Ha ha," I said. Dryly.

Then a new thought seemed to occur to him. "What _are_ we going to get each other for Christmas? We're all filthy stinking rich. What could we possibly get for each other that we couldn't buy ourselves?"

Trust Riley to find the cloud inside the silver lining. "I'm sure we'll think of something," I assured him.

He started to say something else, but something over my left shoulder caught his attention, and the color drained from his face so quickly, I thought I might have to catch him before he passed out. "Right now I'll count it as my Christmas present if you just tell me one thing," he said quickly, sounding unsettlingly afraid.

"What?" I asked immediately.

He pointed behind me towards the door. "Please tell me it's ski season in New York."

I turned to look, and almost wished I hadn't. Three men. Black ski masks. The cause for concern, though, really had much more to do with the guns they held in their hands. One of them stepped forward and shot a round into the ceiling, eliciting a scream from more than one patron. "Everybody freeze!"



_Riley_

Shouts went up from all over the restaurant. I can't promise that one or two of them didn't come from me. I jumped as a hand landed on my arm in a tight grip, nearly sighing in relief when I realized it was Ben.

"Everybody line up against the back wall over there! Go!" The man in front shouted. Guy was obviously the leader, because the big old guy on his right looked too stupid, and I was pretty sure the guy on the left would've rather been at home munching a burrito. I could totally relate.

That's when they spotted mine and Ben's tuxedo-clad selves. And I nearly had a coronary. The leader, Mo, started toward us, gun at his side, followed by Curly. Larry rolled his eyes and went for the cash register. Ben pulled me back behind him. See this guy knows how to do the hero thing. Not that it would've done much good if the Stooges decided to open fire, but I appreciated the sentiment just the same.

"You," he said pointing at us. "You two. That your limo outside?"

"Think we could convince him we're on our way to prom, and our dates are in the bathroom?" I whispered to Ben as Mo got closer.

"Riley," he hissed.

"I'll shut up."

Mo stopped just a couple feet from us, still waiting for an answer. No way was I saying anything. Ben answered. "Yeah. It's ours."

"Wallets and jewelry," the guy demanded, smiling. I was beginning to not like this guy. I took out my wallet, which was brand new by the way and didn't have a single Disney character on it (as instructed--cough, _commanded--_by one Abigail Gates), and handed it to the guy. Ben did the same. Mo looked at Ben's I.D. "Benjamin Gates." He looked at my friend. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Oh, crap," I whispered.

I could see realization dawning. "I saw you on the news. You're that guy who found the treasure." Ben was still standing in front of me, and I could see his shoulders tense. Not good; not good; not good.

Mo smiled and looked at Curly. "Jackpot."

A/N: Okay, a bit of a cliff-hanger. I'll admit it. But I'm going as fast as I can, and I'll write more ASAP, 'kay? I promise. In the meantime, I'm not sure I'm completely sold on this plotline, so pretty please tell me yea or nay.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ben_

Oh bad, bad, bad.

"Get over against the wall," the man demanded, gesturing with his gun, an ugly smile on his face.

"Alright, listen," I tried to reason. "I'll give you what you want, but…" I was cut off abruptly as the man's gun slammed into the side of my face. Everything exploded into a fog of white then red then black. Someone screamed. I stumbled, trying to get my eyes working as my world became a sudden rush of blood and pain. I was vaguely aware of Riley's protests.

"Hey! Come on!" There was a sickening _thwack_, the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then Riley was dangerously silent.

I shook my head, forcing my way through the dizzying haze until my vision cleared. The man's smile was still in place. "Are you really going to make me ask you again?" he said smugly. He gestured toward the wall, opposite where the other hostages sat cowering.

Riley was glaring at him with mutinous eyes. I could tell he really wanted to say something. I tried to send him a message with my eyes, tell him to keep his mouth shut, but he wouldn't look at me. As I felt the warm blood dripping down my face, I figured out why. I must've looked horrible. "No," I finally said. "No, I don't think so."

The man nodded, obviously liking the power he held. "Go on, then."

I started toward the wall. Riley didn't move. He was still glaring up at the man, fists clenched. "Riley," I said. He still didn't look at me. "_Riley_," I said again, sharper this time. His eyes finally met mine. I'm not sure I'd ever seen that much anger in those eyes. "Come on," I said deliberately. "Give me a hand, will you?"

For one horrible split second, I thought he was going to do something stupid. He looked that furious. But he slowly rolled his eyes away, and stepped forward, going to my side. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned on him a little more heavily than may have been necessary because he scared me so badly, and I was actually a bit worried that if he didn't think he was helping me, he'd…I don't even know.

We got to the wall, and I sat down on the floor. He leaned against it and slid down next to me. He was staring at those men again as they spoke in hushed tones several feet away, hands in white-knuckled fists at his sides. I'd never seen him like this before in my life.

"Riley," I said firmly. "Calm down. Calm down right now." He didn't. "Hey. Look at me."

"Rather not." His voice sounded strained.

Oh. I tried to dab away some of the blood on my face. "I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Riley."

Sometimes with Riley Poole, it's all in the tone of voice. I must've used the right one, because he relaxed somewhat. He took a deep breath as his fists slowly unclenched, and he shrugged out of his jacket and undid his cummerbund. Unbuttoning his dress shirt, he slid it off and handed it to me. "Here," he said. "Friday the Thirteenth is so not a good look on you."

I smiled and held the shirt against my head, wincing as I applied pressure to the wound. "Are you okay?"

He snorted. "Hate to be the reality check police for you, but my wallet's gone, I'm probably going to get killed by the Three Stooges, my burger is getting cold, and you're bleeding all over my shirt. Not my best day, Ben, no."

"We'll be okay."

"Not to mention that moron just beat the crap out of my best friend."

Oh, Riley. That would be what bugs him the most. The kid may be annoying, but he's not all mouth. He's as loyal as they get when it comes to the people he cares about. "You didn't come out of it completely unscathed yourself," I noted, seeing the fresh bruise forming on his jaw.

He shrugged. "Yeah, and it hurts, too." His token whine. That was a good sign. It was really more of a dismissal than anything else. "But at least I didn't end up looking like an extra in a bad horror flick."

"Touché. And you're not going to die. We're going to be fine," I informed him.

He gave me a look. "Yeah? How do you figure?"

"Because Abigail would've called the police."



_Riley_

Hollywood couldn't have cued it any better. Like as soon as the words left his mouth, we heard the sirens. I looked around at all the other people. Some of them looked relieved. Most all of them just looked scared. But what was really freaky was Larry looked like he was getting really skittish.

"I told you we should've just grabbed the money and gotten out of here!"

"Shut up!" Moe yelled. Moe had a really big vein in his neck that was kind of doing that gross pulsing thing veins do when people are getting really intense. "How'd they get here so fast?"

Now, to be clear on this point, I really hated this guy. In my mind, he was worse than Ian Howe. Ian never touched Ben. Moe bashed his head open. So it's obvious I was ticked. That coupled with my mouth, which may or may not always be hooked up to my brain, and you get my next sarcastic retort. "Cell phones, dude. Wave of the future."

And yeah, I realize that in a hostage situation, especially one in which you're the hostage, it's usually best not to call attention to yourself; so when Moe and Larry's heads swiveled around to look at me (which looked kind of funny, because they did it at the same time, so it looked almost like one of those lame sit-com moments), I cringed and mentally called myself an idiot.

Moe took a step forward. "You called them?" His cocky grin was gone. He looked really, really mad.

"Take it easy," Ben cut in, in that authoritative way of his that makes me think if my life was like _Highlights for Children_, he'd be playing Gallant to my Goofus. (I mean, come on. Who _doesn't_ read those things while waiting in the dentist's office?) "He didn't call anyone. You've been here the whole time. You know he didn't make any calls."

Unsurprisingly, this did not satisfy the man. He yanked me up by my arm, squeezing hard enough to make me sure my bones were about to shatter. I tried not to wince as he got in my face. His breath smelled like pork rinds and booze. Why don't the bad guys ever bother with a mint? "Did you call them?"

What, did he seriously think I was going to say yes? My thoughts must've shown on my face, because he squeezed my arm impossibly tighter, and jerked me up even closer. I couldn't stop the little sound of pain that managed to get out. It really hurt. "No. I didn't call them."

He eyed me for another minute, trying to intimidate me or something. And I would've been intimidated. If I wasn't so mad. He finally released me and shoved me off toward the windows. "Shut the blinds," he ordered.

I rubbed my arm and looked at Ben. He tilted his head toward the blinds. _Do what he says, kid. I can't get us out of here if you get yourself killed._ I'm pretty sure that's the message he was trying to convey. I glared at the bad man before turning and grudgingly doing as ordered, making a note to tell Ben to quit calling me kid in my head. When I looked out the window, there were a whole bunch of cops and stuff milling about, getting ready, I hoped, to save all of our lives. Then I saw Abi. She was still in her gown, though she'd lost the spikey shoes. I allowed a small, smug grin. I was so right about those things.

Then she looked up and saw me. I kinda wish she hadn't. I wouldn't have had to see the scared look in her eyes. Abi's pretty much a superhero. Or heroine or whatever. It's unsettling to see her looking so…unsettled. She waved at me, looking frustrated and worried and like she was trying not to cry because she never cries. I waved back.

"Hey!" I jumped as Moe's angry shout sounded from behind me. He held his weapon on me. "Shut 'em! Now! And get back over here."

I did. As soon as I was done, I headed back over. As I passed him, he shoved me in the chest back against the wall. I groaned. "You know you're unnecessarily violent?"

"Who were you signaling?"

"The snipers," I answered flippantly. I didn't mean to actually say it. I just can't stand when people ask stupid questions. Plus I was slightly freaking out and when I freak out, slightly or otherwise, I tend not to think wonderfully clearly. His massive hand pushing on my chest, and the gun suddenly pressed up against my head made me take it back, though. "Nobody. Nobody," I backpedaled.

Ben was suddenly standing up beside me. His head had to be killing him. "Come on. Nobody can see you now, anyway. It doesn't matter. You want to live? Let him go and calm down."

I just kept talking. "It was just my...my sister. She was waiting in the car. She's out there with the police right now, just waiting for us, you know? I wasn't signaling…" The phone rang, interrupting everything. I had much love for that phone.

Moe looked away from me. "Blaine! Keep your eyes on these two." Curly came lumbering over. His name was Blaine? Really? Like is that even a name?

Moe let go of me and walked over to answer the phone, talking to who I assumed was the hostage negotiator. Hostage negotiator. Because we were hostages. That word carries so much more weight when you're really living it instead of watching _Without a Trace _on TV. I looked at Ben. Ben looked at me. I'm sure we both pretty much looked like crap. I tried to smile. "Abi says hi."



_Ben_

My head had stopped bleeding, but it was still throbbing with every heartbeat. And I was starting to get worried. The three men were starting to get antsy, and I was getting a bad feeling about the whole thing. Not that a bad feeling wasn't to be expected. It was just this nagging sense in the pit of my stomach that things were somehow going to get worse. I usually save the pessimism for Riley, but this time...I don't know. I really wasn't liking it. But Riley was looking at me, begging me for something, something to make it better. Something to let him know we really weren't going to die. I've never been one to beat around the bush. "We're really not going to die, you know."

His lips quirked. "Oh. Well, when you put it that way..."

That's when Blaine decided to step in. "You two sit down."

"I was just sitting down. That guy told me to stand up," Riley almost pouted.

Before the man could process, I took Riley by the shoulder, sat us both down, and shot him a disapproving look. "You really need to learn to shut up."

He shrugged, lacking the social grace to really look repentent. "It's a coping mechanism."

"Find a new coping mechanism."

"All the good ones are taken."

"I'll let you use mine."

"What's yours?"

I gave him a look and pointed to my closed mouth. He heaved a huge, put-upon sigh that seemed to come from all the way down in his toes.

He crossed his arms. "Okay, okay. I get it. No more ticking them off. I don't always do it on purpose, you know."

I gave half a laugh. "Yeah. I know." Oh, did I know.

"I don't like those guys."

"Well, I'm not incredibly fond of them myself, Riley."

"I know," he said. "Does your head still hurt?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He was quiet long enough for me to start worrying about him. I casually sat up straighter, using the opportunity to shift my position so our shoulders touched.

"What's up?" I asked.

"We're hostages," he answered dully. There was something else going on with him, though. I could tell. The way he sort of freaked out earlier testified to that much. I'd never seen him like that before. It was like he was somewhere else.

"Yeah? What else?"

He gave me a look. "That's not enough for you?"

"Hey..." That's when that bad feeling I had erupted in my gut as the leader slammed down the phone. He sauntered over casually.

"Everyone," he announced, "you're free to go. Single file, please. No running." He looked down at Riley and me. "But you two gentlemen. You're my ticket out of here."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: You people are fantastic! I've gotten more reviews for this story than for any other story I've ever written! So thanks so much! Hope ya'll enjoy this next chapter!

Side note: Thanks and a bouquet of flowers to sarahofearth for the little idea snippet!

_Riley_

Sometimes, I hate my life.

Me and Ben just had to sit there and watch as all the other hostage-type folks filed out of the place, shooting us these awful, sympathetic, boy-am-I-glad-that's-not-me looks. Don't get me wrong. I'm glad they all got out okay. But when one guy tripped on his way out and stubbed his toe, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a small measure of satisfaction.

Moe stood against the wall by the door, and I could tell by the look on his face that he figured he had everything under control. He was being really annoying, waving bye bye at the people leaving with a smirk that might've been more sarcastic than anything even I could manage. As the cute waitress walked past, he pinched her butt; just about made her cry. Stupid jerk.

Ben must've read something on my face, 'cause he nudged me with his shoulder. "Easy, big fella."

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms. "Enough with the cracks about my name. It's not a dog name. It's a people name, okay?" Geeze, it's like everywhere I go, somebody's gotta be like, Riley? Oh, I had a dog named Riley once...

He smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall for a minute. "That's not what I meant. Though, if we ever do get a puppy..."

"You're not naming it after me, Ben. There will not be a dog running around your house answering to my name. Your life will be miserable. Mark my words."

He laugh/grimaced. Guy had a concussion. That much I knew. The area around the nasty cut on his head was already swollen and had turned more shades of blue than a Picasso. He looked beat, and I think he'd kept from passing out through sheer, determined, Gates-style will. More powerful than a locomotive? Maybe not. But I'm pretty sure if it came down to it, Ben would be able to figure out some brilliant, ingenious, locomotive-stopping plan. Especially if it was somebody else's life on the line...uh...tracks.

"Ben?"

"I'm fine, Fido."

That almost annoyed me into believing him. Almost. I was about to tell Mr. Benjamin Franklin Gates to go fly a kite in a lightening storm, but Moe and Larry came striding up to us, looking down at us like we were nothing. Moe took a cell phone from his pocket and held it out toward Ben.

"I need you to make a call for me."

Ben glanced at it, then closed his eyes again. "If you're needing me to convince your girlfriend to get back together with you, I have to tell you,sir, that..."

"Shut up!" Moe, interrupted. Whoa. Ben. Man must be tired. I couldn't help but laugh at that one, though. Moe pointed at me. "You shut up, too." I leaned back against the wall and grinned up at him, arms still crossed. I take back what I said earlier. Guy can't hold a candle to the amount of sarcasm I can squeeze into this face. "I want you to get me a helicoptor. Tell the pilot to land it near the back entrance and to get out. We've got a man to fly it."

"Well, where would you like me to get this helicopter?" Ben asked slowly.

"You must have a few private choppers," the man declared, oh so sure of himself.

Ben looked purposefully confused. "Well...that's news to me. Riley? Do you know about any helicopters?"

"Told you we should've taken more than one percent, Ben."

He glanced back at Moe. "We're really not as rich as you might've hoped..." He trailed off as Moe's gun was out and pressed against his head.

"You'd better be lying," the man said lowly.

I stopped breathing.

Ben met the man's eyes, said something like, "Take it easy. You haven't killed anyone yet. You need to relax, and we'll figure..."

He kept talking, but I couldn't really hear what he was saying over the blood roaring in my ears. It was kinda like the sound on the TV when the satelite goes out. It got louder, and time got slower, and I saw him raise his gun to hit Ben again. A whole bunch of images and nightmare memories came flooding back, and in my head there was another body and another beating that messed up my life forever. Not Ben. Not now. Couldn't let the same thing happen to him. Couldn't let it happen again...

So many thoughts rushing crazy fast through my brain, the gun on a collision course for Ben's head. I didn't think. I reacted, hearing one thing over the rushing in my ears. My voice.

"Stop!"

Time sped back up, and I realized what happened, and I kinda wish I could've seen the look on Ben's face. I was standing between the nut job and my friend, breathing hard. The man had stopped midswing, the only reason being, I'm pretty sure, that I surprised the heck out of him. But I realized if I wanted to keep breathing at all, I had better start talking.

"I...I can get a chopper for you."

"Riley..."

"Ben," I said, trying out one of his favorite lines, "Shush." It actually worked, and I resolved to use it more often. I spoke to Moe, "Get me access to the Internet, and I'll get you a chopper, one way or another."

He seemed to consider it for a second. Then I was spun around by my arm and slammed into the wall, my cheekbone taking most of the impact, as my arm was wrenched painfully into the small of my back. I seriously thought the guy was going to break my arm. When he spoke, his mouth was right up against my ear. And I was more scared than I'd been in awhile. "If you're lying to me..."

"He's not lying. That kid can do anything with computers. But you let him go _now_." Ben's held a dangerousness that it only got when he was _really_ mad. "Right now."

I wasn't that surprised when the creep suddenly released me, but I guess I hit that wall harder than I thought, because as I took a step, everything sort of tilted and got dark. I didn't realized I'd fallen until I _didn't_ hit the ground.

v v v

_Ben_

I managed to catch him under his arms before his face could hit the floor. Crazy kid. What was he thinking? What was _I_ thinking? I'd just made myself guilty of the same thing I'd gotten on to Riley for. And as in some way always seemed to be the case, he ended up paying the price. But he somehow never has the sense to get mad at me for it. He looked up at me and actually offered a weak smile. "Vertigo," he offered by way of explanation. He sounded embarrassed. Embarrassed, not angry.

I hoisted him up and kept a firm grip on him as he regained his balance. "I'm sorry."

He either didn't hear me or decided to ignore me. "Did you really just call me 'kid' in front of the bad guys?" he complained his forgiveness. "I mean, really, Ben. It's one thing when you do it in my head, but..."

I was spared having to wonder if that knock on the head had severely damaged that brain of his as the leader waved us forward. "You two get moving. There's a computer in the back room."

"We're coming," I said. If I sounded half as frustrated as I felt, it would probably explain the look of disgusted disapproval the man shot me. I had enough sense to count that as the only warning I'd get before he started hurting people again. I started forward with Riley, but the kid suddenly wavered, and I drew him back against my side. _Good grief, how hard did that monster hit him?_ That's when I felt his hand tighten around the fabric of my shirt. He wouldn't look at me, though. It was then that I figured out maybe he wasn't quite as dizzy as he'd let on. Didn't matter. I didn't plan on letting go, anyway.

I followed the leader to a door at the head of the restaurant that led to a back room. He brought us to a halt and looked at me. "This is where you get off."

I looked at him. _What?_ "Beg pardon?"

"You're going to wait out here with Jerry and Blaine. Kid goes with me to the computer."

The grip on my shirt went impossibly tighter. "Actually, I think I might need Ben to..."

"You'll shut up right now if you want out of this alive." The gun in Riley's face was a good incentive.

"Look, we're staying together," I told him as simply and calmly as I could. The slow-toned anger that crept into my voice probably messed up that plan, though. "No negotiation on that one. You need us to get out of here. If you want our cooperation, you keep us together."

"I'd like to second that," Riley put in, eyes crossed and staring down the barrel of the gun not two inches from the end of his nose.

"That so, Mr. Gates?" the man asked.

"Yes, sir, it is." I wasn't going to be moved on that. No way was I letting my best friend go into a room alone with this maniac.

He seemed to consider it for a moment. But in the end, he was a moron with a gun. And as with most morons with guns, he thought that gave him the power to do whatever he wanted.

"Hey!" It was the only thing that could escape my lips as Riley was wrenched away from me, an arm wrapped around his neck, and a gun pressed into the side of his skull. I glanced back. His two lackeys were watching carelessly beside the aquarium. The less intelligent one looked entertained.

"Back up, Mr. Gates."

"Come on..."

"Back up!" I backed up. Didn't really have a choice there, did I? Riley was staring at me, wide-eyed, his cheek purpling with fresh bruises. _Fix this, Ben._ It was all but Sharpie-ed across his forehead. _I'm trying, kid._ I wasn't sure how! I stepped back until I was standing in front of the aquarium between the henchmen, feeling helpless. My eyes moved to land on the leader's. I think I put more heat into that glare than any that had come before it. This guy was worse than Ian.

He took a few steps forward, dragging Riley along with him, practically in a choke-hold. The gun left Riley's head and moved to point at me. That at least was an improvement. Then something happened to shock the living daylights out of me.

With a grunt, Riley knocked the man's arm up as his elbow embedded itself solidly into the man's gut. As the man doubled over, I reacted. Grabbing a chair, I slammed it into Jerry. The man went down hard. Before the dumb one could get his gun up to fire, I swung the chair around, crashing it into the aquarium glass. I dove out of the way as hundreds of gallons of water and fish and shards of glass errupted from the tank, taking Blaine to the floor. He didn't get back up. The water also managed to sweep the leader off his feet, but not before his gun discharged. I saw Riley fall, his body landing with a splash. I think I almost passed out. _No time, _I told myself. I had to get Riley out. I had to fix this.

I ran to him and hefted him up, more relieved than I could've imagined when his feet held most of his weight. "Don't look back!" We kept running, bursting through the front doors, managing to go a few steps before spilling onto the pavement. There was an uproar as the authorities realized who we were and their teams swarmed the building. I didn't really care. All I cared about was the guy lying on his stomach the ground next to me.

I sat up. "Riley? You alright? Riley,hey, are you okay?"

He groaned and I watched his eyes track an aquarium fish that was lying on the pavement a few feet away, it's tail fin flopping sluggishly. "Man, PETA's gonna be so ticked."

I laughed. A real, tension-relieving laugh. It might've been slightly hysterical, but it was just then settling in that we were safe and alive and okay and free. All the newfound freedom was a bit overwhelming. I went to help him up, and he stopped me suddenly.

"Wait! Be careful."

Eyebrows knit, and a dreadful feeling in my gut, I helped him sit up carefully. The red streaks were the first thing I noticed. "Riley," I said in amazement. "You've been shot."

v v v

A/N: I know. You guys give me such great reviews and this was like my slowest update ever. I'm really sorry. I'm going to try to get the next chapter up ASAP, 'kay? I'm pretty sure the next chapter will be the last, so bear with me. And, though it may not appear so, your awesome reviews really do spur me on! So feel free to spur!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: You people are wonderful. All you reviewers. You all make my day. Seriously. I hope you guys like this.

_Rile__y_

It took me a second to realize what had happened. All I knew was that back in the building, something had jumped up and bit me. I don't know if my processor was running a little slow, or what, but all of a sudden, laying out there on the ground, all the pain caught up with me, and it was like somebody took a blow torch to my arm. I suddenly remembered all those action flicks where the hero gets shot in the arm or in the shoulder, and he keeps on fighting like it's a minor annoyance. What a freaking joke! I could hardly move, it hurt so bad, let alone take on an army or whatever it is those heroic types do.

"Ben," I ground out, squeezing my eyes shut. "Ben, It hurts."

He was gripping my hand hard enough to ground me a little, which was much appreciated. When he spoke again, his voice was all calm and collected, and that made my heart slow down some. If Ben's freaking out, chances are, everyone's probably going to die. But he wasn't freaking out. Which means he knew what to do. Which means I would be fine. I just wished I could convince the pain center of my brain that was the case, because my arm was really, really hurting. "I know. Hang on, Riley. You're going to be fine."

I think I nodded. We were suddenly swarmed by about a thousand EMT type people, and they were calling orders and stats back and forth, and I was lifted up onto a gurney. All of a sudden some idiot pressed down really hard on my wound. He might as well have lit it on fire. I bit down, screaming through my teeth. Poor Ben. I think I just about tore his hand off. But the guy didn't let go.

I let my head drop back to the gurney. "Wh't the heck was that?" It wasn't a whimper. I swear. But my breath came rushing out and the pain slowly subsided to a more bearable level. Barely.

"We have to stop the bleeding," somebody said. It was probably the idiot.

"How necessary could it possibly be to stop the bleeding?" I asked Ben seriously, my eyes still tightly shut. No way was I opening my eyes. It'd be like releasing the floodgates. Some of the people chuckled at my comment. Yeah. So glad they were having such a good time.

"Looks like it's a through and through," a voice said. "You're a very lucky young man."

"You go get shot in the arm," I retorted. I couldn't help it. It hurt so freaking bad. "See how lucky a 'through and through' makes you feel."

Then I heard another voice. "Ben!" I knew that voice. Abi. Man. She had to be ticked.

vvv

_Ben_

I looked up in time to find my arms full of Abigail. I hugged her tightly. "It's alright. We're okay. We're going to be fine," I assured her. She pulled back, turning to look at Riley, her eyes going straight to the wound high on his left arm.

"I heard the shot," she said blankly, all the fear she must've felt echoing clearly in her voice. She must've been terrified. "Riley?"

"Present," he said, bravely trying to sound normal for her, though I could see the pain etched into his face. I knew Abigail could, too. _He's been shot._ I don't think it'd quite caught up with me, yet.

"Oh, Riley..." For once in her life, Abigail Chase Gates was speechless. Tears welled up in her eyes as she placed her hand over mine, the one still gripping firmly to Riley's.

"I'm fine, Abs. Swear," he said. Liar.

A medic looked up at me. "Sir, we're going to have to load him up. If you'll step back, please."

Riley's eyes suddenly shot open, his hand tightening it's grip. "Wait!" Kid really hates hospitals. I know this. I wasn't sure at the time why he hated them so much, but there was really no way for me to get him out of this one.

"Riley..."

Riley wouldn't hear of it. "He got hit on the head, though. Concussion," he said quickly to one of the EMTs. "And that wound might need stitches." I couldn't believe it. He was ratting me out. "Shouldn't that warrant a hospital stay?" He looked at me with bright, worried eyes_, Don't leave me alone in that place, _spelled out in every inch of his too-pale face.

The medic looked at me. "Sir? If you need medical attention, I'm going to need you to hop up here."

Abigail looked at Riley before turning her eyes up to me. She got it. She has more big sister in her than she gives herself credit for. "I'll meet you at the hospital," she said softly. She kissed me. Man, I love that woman. She let go of me, making her way to "James" our driver, who was still waiting by the limo. That man was getting a raise. I turned my eyes back to the restaurant in time to see the three men who'd effectively given me the worst night of my life being led from the building in handcuffs, cameras going off in their faces as the press tried to muscle their way in. I mentally thanked God for the police who were keeping the press and their cameras and their questions away from me and my family. The leader, the man who'd shot my friend, could have killed him, met my eyes. A chill ran up my spine. But he was going to get what was his. He'd be going to jail for a long time.

A local officer walked up to us. "Are you all heading to the hospital?" I nodded. "That's fine. We are going to need statements from the two of you as soon as you feel up to it."

"Not a problem. Thank you," I told him.

"Did you see that jacket Abi was wearing?" Riley suddenly spoke up.

I looked over to see my wife getting into the limo, noticing she was wearing one of the blue jackets all of the officers wore, "NYPD" stamped on the back. I looked at the officer. He grimaced. "We gave it to her because she was cold. But I think it...empowered her. Suddenly, she was all about barking orders. She wouldn't shut up."

I looked at Riley, and we both shared a tired grin. "It wasn't the jacket," I assured the man.

As Riley was loaded into the back of the ambulance, he called, "Can I get one of those, though? That would so beat one of those 'I heart New York' t-shirts." I grinned. He'd be alright.

The man smiled. "I'll see what I can do."

I thanked the man and climbed up into the ambulance, leaning my head back against the wall. My head felt very, very heavy. As the ambulance doors banged shut, I winced. I sought out Riley's eyes, hoping to hear him whine, get him talking. But he wasn't looking at me. His eyes were somewhere else. Far away.

"Riley," I said. He didn't respond. "Hey, Rin Tin Tin," I called with a grin. He didn't even blink. I was getting worried. One of the EMTs looked up, and she also tried to get his attention.

"Mr. Poole. Mr. Poole." She looked nervous. "How much blood did he lose?"

"Not enough to put him in a coma," another answered.

"Riley!" I yelled. He snapped out of it.

"Rick?" He asked immediately, blue eyes clouded and haunted as I'd ever seen.

"Hey. Riley, it's..." I shook my head. "Are you okay?"

"Ben?" He looked scared and almost disappointed for a moment. But the next instant, he was back, and he tried to shrug it off. "I just got shot. Of course I'm not okay." I stared at him. What was going on with him? I don't think even the medics bought that act. And Rick? Who's Rick?

vvv

_Riley_

Sometimes it's good to be me. This wasn't one of those times. The shot had been clean, and I wouldn't need surgery. That was the good news. So after x-rays and stitches and bandages and everything that comes with, I was finally able to take a breath. It was a shallow breath. My arm had been all anesthetized for the stitches, so it felt heavy and stiff, but as long as I didn't move it, I was alright. I was lying in a hospital bed. Not even taking into account the fact that the idea of a comfy hospital bed is like something you could probably find only in one of those children's story books out in the lobby about "Jimmy's first trip to the doctor," this particular hospital bed felt so starched, every time I moved, I could practically hear it _crunch._ Needless to say, I wanted to go home. But no. No home for Riley. Not tonight. Tonight would be spent in a crunchy bed trying not to fall asleep, 'cause every time I closed my eyes, the nightmares would start all over again. I _really_ wanted to go home.

Not to mention, the moment somebody switched on the TV, wham, there we were on the news. Something about seeing a shaky image of myself lying on the ground...Too creepy for words. The TV was swiftly turned back off, followed by nervous, sympathetic looks that I pointedly ignored.

Ben and I were sharing a room. Most of me was perfectly happy about that. Part of me, though, was super anxious. Ben had his _We need to talk_ face on, and I knew that as soon as Abi left the room, he'd give me one of those deep, meaningful, serious type looks and start prying into places in my mind that I didn't particularly feel like going. The crowbar method. Ben does it well.

Ben's head actually had called for a stitch or two, and I was right about the concussion. If I was lucky, he'd be just tired enough to forget about the whole thing. But I wasn't taking any chances. As he and Abi were talking, I settled further into the sheets, wincing as my arm protested, and trying to ignore the bed's snap, crackle, and popping. I closed my eyes, taking deep, even breaths, and waited. If I was lucky...

"Looks like he's asleep," Abi commented. She walked closer, and I had to concentrate really hard not to twitch or something. I waited for her to go back to Ben. But then suddenly she ran a hand through my hair and kissed me lightly on the forehead. Surprised the heck out of me. "Sleep well, Riley," she said softly. "If you're not annoying and whiny when I come back in tomorrow, I'll have them keep you an extra day." At first I thought she'd figured out I wasn't really sleeping, but then I heard Ben chuckle, and she walked back to say goodbye to him. I felt kinda bad for the deception. I hadn't even really gotten to thank her for bringing over my pajama pants (though for some reason, she thought it necessary to bring the _Alf_ ones) and a t-shirt, 'cause there was no way that backless hospital dress thing was happening. But hey, I was home free. As Abigail pulled back from the kiss she'd given Ben, I heard her clicking heels walk accross the room and out the door. She was leaving. They'd bought the act, and no way would Ben wake me up to talk to me. I'd just been shot. You don't wake people up who've been shot.

The door shut softly behind her, and I heard Ben get up from his bed. I assumed he was going to turn off the light. But instead he dragged a chair up next to my bed and sat down. What the heck? I struggled really hard to keep a straight face. I could picture him, sitting there in his plaid pajamas, staring me down. Deep, breaths. In-one-two-three. Out-one-two-three. What was he doing?

"I'm not going to kiss you, if that's what you're wondering," he said dryly. "Riley, I know you're awake. Open your eyes."

How did he do that? There was no possible way. I kept my eyes closed. Next came the dreaded words.

"Come on. I need to talk to you. Quit pretending and look at me."

"Ben, I got shot," I kept my eyes closed as I tried playing to his sympathies. And no, I'm not above such tactics. "Can't it wait 'til tomorrow? I'm really tired."

"It is tomorrow," he pointed out.

"My point exactly."

"Who's Rick?" The casual question made me freeze. Rick.

_Come on, Ben, don't make me do this_. "Sorry?"

He didn't let up. He never does. Guy's like a dog with a bone when he gets his teeth into something. And he calls _me_ dog names? Man's like freaking Lassie. "You asked for Rick in the ambulance," he explained patiently. "I don't know anyone named Rick. Who is he?"

I still couldn't look at him.

"Riley?"

"It's nothing, Ben. Just leave it alone. Please."

vvv

_Ben_

I watched him, his eyes still stubbornly closed, body tensed. I couldn't imagine what was wrong. Riley doesn't get upset often. Insufferably whiny, sure, but not seriously upset. Not ever to the point where he clams up. When Riley's uncomfortable, I'm usually the first to hear about it. Actually, whoever is in earshot is the first to hear about it, because usually, if he's in pain, he broadcasts it quite loudly. But this went deeper than physical pain. And it was really starting to worry me.

"Riley. Whatever's bothering you..."

"Nothing's bothering me!" he suddenly exploded, eyes finally snapping open. I merely stared at him, waiting. He realized how he'd sounded, and quickly reigned himself in. "I mean, I..." He trailed off. With a weary sigh he finally said, "It's just some memories. Some stuff tonight kinda brought it back, and...well, they're really crappy memories, alright? But I'll get over it. It was a long time ago." His eyes dropped to stare at the bed sheets.

"That have something to do with why you were so angry? Why you put yourself in the line of fire for me tonight?" I had to ask. It wasn't that I was surprised that Riley would stick up for me. More that I was surprised at the intensity he showed.

He sighed. "Maybe some. I guess." He looked up at me. "You're really not going to let this go, are you?"

I smiled faintly. "You know me better than that."

"It's not pretty. You might not want to know."

"Try me." I could tell he was warring with himself on whether or not to tell me. That was fine. I could wait him out any day. Sure enough.

He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, it was obvious he was trying for normal. He didn't quite pull it off. "I have a brother." I think my eyes widened. Okay, that definitely wasn't what I was expecting. How could I not know he had a brother? But then, Riley had never been particularly talkative about his past, which had never struck me as odd until that moment. I waited for him to go on. "We were really close. He was five years older than me, but he liked me anyway, and we sorta stuck together, you know?"

I nodded. "What happened Riley?"

"He, ah," he looked away and cleared his throat, "We were walking home one night. He worked at a youth center, and I always hung around 'til he was done. He got off pretty late, and we were in kind of a bad part of town. It was already past dark. Then we were being followed by some guys. I think I recognized one or two of them from Rick's school, but then we were running, and he shoved me behind some boxes in an alley, and he promised he'd come back, but that I needed to hide, so I hid, but then the guys came around the corner, and they," he swallowed, "they beat the crap out of him. Hard." He shook his head and gave a humorless laugh. "And it was so _stupid_. I just sat there. I couldn't even move. Not for, like, ten minutes after they left."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But I couldn't interrupt. He had to get this out.

"Anyway, he wasn't dead, which was a miracle. But he wasn't the same. Even when he was up and around again, he was different. He quit his job. He started going out and staying out with people I never got to meet, he didn't want me around, and a few months later...he left."

"He left?"

"Yeah, he left. I came home from school and my mom was crying and his stuff was gone 'cause he just left." He looked up at me with pain-filled eyes. "He walked, Ben. And I know it was because that night did something to him, and I...I just sat there and watched it all happen." His next words were softly spoken with enough sincerity to blow me away. "I couldn't just sit there and watch it happen again."

vvv

A/N: Okay, call me a liar, but this was in fact, _not_ the last chapter. I'm the worst prediction-maker ever. So sorry. I'm not even going to try anymore. Just know that I'm not cutting off here. There will be more after this. Of that I am sure.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I updated a little faster this time. See? Reviewing does work! Thank you all for the motivation your words brought!

_Riley_

I couldn't look at him. Honestly, the guy can't bluff. What he's thinking is usually displayed for all to see, and I didn't especially feel like seeing what he was thinking right then. I was too scared of what might be there. So I stared at the suddenly blurry fabric I was scrunching in my fingers. I don't even know why I told him. He just has this way of...making me feel like he cares or something. And as pathetic as it may sound, I needed that right then. But with the silence filling the room, I was starting to feel like ten kinds of a moron. Guy probably thought I was as guilty as I felt, or that I was acting crazy childish for letting something like that still get to me all these years later. I wasn't even a hundred percent sure which would be worse. I was tired. I was hurt. I wanted him to leave me alone.

"How old were you?" he asked softly.

"Eleven."

He nodded. "Well, that...sucks." That surprised a tired half-smile out of me. Ben's usually got such a way with words. Now if only he'd let me off the hook.

"Yeah. Well, look, I really am tired..."

"Riley..."

"Ben, _please_." I finally looked up at him. That was a mistake. Because he _was_ wearing his feelings right out there for me to see. And instead of disgust or pity or anything else that I knew how to deal with, something I could just lock away inside with all that other junk that I keep buried, there was something else that scared the heck out of me. He just...cared. And that freaked me out. Rick cared. Rick cared and he left. People who cared ended up leaving, and I wasn't completely convinced I could handle that.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," he said. He really meant it. I swallowed hard, blinking very, very quickly. "But it wasn't your fault. You were eleven. There was nothing you could've done to help your brother."

That wasn't true. I knew that wasn't true. I shook my head, wincing as a tear dislodged, sliding and landing on the stupid crispy sheets. "I could've tried. You don't think it would've made a difference if I'd tried? I bet that's why he left, Ben! He couldn't stand living with the guy who stood by and watched him get beat half to death! I mean, I...I don't even know where he went! Or what he did! I can't even tell you whether or not he's freaking alive right now!" I was breathing hard. Breathing, not crying. Rick had loved me. I know he had. He was my big brother. Things were always better when he was around. Until after that. After that he was only interested in not being around. He had to have blamed me. Enough to stop loving me. And if he could blame me, it was only fair for me to blame me, too.

But Ben didn't seem to get that. "Riley, listen to me. You were a little kid. You were scared. You did what your brother told you to do, and because you did what he told you, because you hid, you were able to call for help. What if you had come out of hiding, and you got hurt, too? Who would've saved you both then, Riley?"

I sat there, furiously biting at my botom lip, afraid that if I breathed again, someone might accidentally mistake it for a sob or something. "I don't know, Ben," I forced out. "Please just leave this alone. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

But he was relentless. "I know. But Riley, you have to understand this. What happened to your brother wasn't your fault."

"_He_ didn't believe that."

"He's the one who told you to hide, wasn't he?"

I shook my head, something in my chest loosening. I wanted to believe him. I wanted it to be true. I did. But it just...it didn't make sense. If it wasn't me... "Then why'd he leave, Ben?" I asked quietly. "Why'd he leave?"

vvv

_Ben_

I sat there watching him. He was looking up at me, that look that still scares the daylights out of me. It was a look that begged me to have all the answers, to make things all right for him. It was breaking my heart. "I don't know," I said honestly. "I'm sorry, Riley. I don't know why."

He let out a deep breath and nodded once, eyes leaving mine as he ducked his head. "Me neither," he said softly. "I'm sorry, Ben."

Sorry? "For what?" I asked.

He shrugged his good shoulder. "Tonight. What happened. Freaking out." He shook his head and winced. "All of it, I guess. If I hadn't..."

"Riley," I said as gently as I could. "Shush."

He didn't. Which was nothing new. "But Ben, you know it was mostly..."

"Not your fault. Stop it. If you try picking up this load of guilt, know that it'd be as much mine, too. We can play the what if game all night. What if I had said no to you? I can do that, you know. What if we'd turned down the gala invitation? What if our driver had picked a different restaurant?"

"You got hurt." I realized there was real fear behind those words. Like the fact that he got _more _hurt didn't even fit into his little equation. I got hurt, so I was leaving. The amount of fear in his eyes was overwhelming to me.

"Riley," I said firmly. I waited for him to look up at me. "I'm not...I mean..." I trailed off as I searched for the right words, his words from earlier ringing in my ears, _I couldn't just sit there and watch it happen again. _It was hard for me to comprehend, but I knew what he was thinking. "I'm not...him, you know." He looked surprised and suddenly hopeful, and I don't think he realized that another tear slipped down his face. "You're my best friend," I said deliberately, my voice leaving no room for question. "I'm not going anywhere."

It took a minute, I think, for that to sink into his brain, past all of the stuff I imagine he's got packed in there, the stuff he doesn't talk about. "But..."

"I promise."

He blinked. A slow smile spread across his face. He knows me. He knows I don't make promises lightly. When I give my word, I follow through. I had every intention of following this through. "Yeah?"

I smiled back. "Yeah, kid."

When he rolled his still-bright eyes at the moniker, I knew he'd be all right. Not that this was over. Not by a long shot. I figured he'd still be needing lots of reminding. But that was okay. Reminders I can do. I couldn't fix what happened with his brother, but I could let him know it wouldn't happen again. Not with me. "Well, what if I set fire to your kitchen?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

"Not going anywhere," I assured.

"How about if I dropped your George Washington button collection deal in the Hudson?"

"Then I'd be taking you diving a lot sooner than I'd planned."

"Well, what if...what if I screwed something up royally, and you...you got hurt or something? Free walk-away rights right there." He looked at me, biting his lip, waiting for my answer, unable to quite pull off his _I could care less_ face.

I reached out and squeezed the back of his neck, looking straight into his eyes so he'd know I was serious. "Then I guess I'd be taking you diving a little later than I'd planned."

He grinned, and I let go, unable to resist ruffling up his hair. He rolled his eyes again. "You're serious?" he asked.

"I'm serious."

"Okay," he said, nodding. "I believe you. Ben. Good night."

I was only slightly surprised by trust he handed me so easily. We'd been working on that trust for awhile. Apparently we'd made more progress than I thought. But that was my cue. He was going to be okay, he wasn't a fan of all this mushy stuff, and he actually wanted to sleep. I stood, making my way to switch off the light. "'Night, Riley." Come to think of it, I was exhausted myself. Concussions. Not only do they hurt. They suck the energy right of you.

As I laid down beneath the over-starched sheets, I breathed a contented sigh. Just before my eyes drifted shut, I heard it. "Ben?"

"Yes, Riley?"

"Are we really going diving?"

"Yes, Riley."

"Oh." A pause. I closed my eyes. "Ben?"

"What?"

"There aren't going to be, like, sharks or jellyfish or anything down there, right?"

I think I groaned.

vvv

_Riley_

I stood in the hotel room, trying to fold a t-shirt one-handed. It wasn't exactly working out. Then I realized I really could've cared less if my t-shirt was folded, and I tossed it into my duffel bag. It had been three days since the hold up. Me and Ben had been released from the hospital with all those hospital-type instructions about resting and recouping, and blah, blah, blah. Then it was a couple days of "This happened, then this happened" and "That one did this, and this one did that" with the police. They did find the bullet that went through my arm, though, and David, the one really nice officer, said he'd mail it to me when they were done with their investigation. Which was cool. In a creepy, disgusting kind of way.

But we were leaving today, for which I was most grateful. I was done with New York. Too many gunshot wounds for my taste.

But aside from the pain and the constant going over and over what happened with the police, the past couple days had been kinda nice. Abi fussed all over me, trying to look like she wasn't fussing all over me. If I winced she'd be practically jumping out of her seat, worrying over my meds and if I'd taken the right dose, and if the doctors had given me the right prescription and on and on. Then she'd say something like, "You're a mess, Riley," then she'd stick out her tongue at me, and then she'd go buy me churros. It was all very confusing and very entertaining. I found out I really like churros, though.

Then there was Ben. I really don't get that guy sometimes. He's like a...best friend, bodyguard, and surrogate big brother all rolled up into one. It's crazy weird for me sometimes, because I've been trying to convince myself since the day Rick left that I don't really need any of those things. And then here comes Ben, and it's like he's determined to prove me wrong there. Like he's going to give me exactly what I need regardless of whether or not I think I need it. These past couple days he just about annoyed the heck out of me. He's just as mother hen-ish as Abi, except he usually tries to be a little more covert about it. But I gotta admit, most of my complaining about it was just for show.

I finished zipping up my duffel, looking around to see if I'd forgotten anything. Nope. I was ready. I stepped up to the window and looked out over the city. It was...big. And gray. And kinda depressing. I stepped right up to the window and leaned forward, putting my forehead on the glass. The room was thirty-three stories up, so it was dizzyingly high, and I got that weird, I-could-fall-at-any-time feeling. This is bar none, the best way to look out a big window from high up.

I heard the door open. I didn't move though. I was pretty sure I knew who it was. I was proven right as as a familiar pair of Dockers stepped up into my line of sight, and I heard his forehead hit the glass next to me. I grinned.

"Enjoying the view?" Ben asked.

"Yep. Abi ready to go?"

"Waiting downstairs for us."

"Oh yeah. There she goes." I pointed. "Is that her?" A little tiny blonde with a little tiny head was standing on the sidewalk next to a bellhop waiting with one of those bag carts.

"I don't know," he said. "I can't..." The little tiny blonde apparently said something to the bellhop, and the man started removing the bags from the cart and restacking them. Ben and I rolled our eyes toward each other and grinned. "It's her."

He pushed back from the window. "Hey, I got you something."

My favorite words ever. I stood up straight. "Yeah? What is it?"

He scooped up a paper sack and held it out to me. "Something better than an 'I heart New York' t-shirt."

I snatched the sack and set it on the bed, trying to tear through it one-handed. "You didn't seriously."

He just grinned. Oh my gosh. He freaking did!

vvv

_Ben_

I watched his face light up as he finally managed to pull the jacket out of the bag. He held it up. It was probably at least a size or two too big, but that didn't matter. He looked at me. "You got me an NYPD jacket?"

"Actually, all I did was make a call. David got you the jacket."

"That guy rocks! Thanks, Ben." He tried to put it on. Not a good move for a guy with his arm in a sling who wasn't particularly coordinated in the first place. I knew better than to offer to help, however. Try convincing an irritated Riley Poole he needs help getting dressed in the morning. I did. Two days ago. He threw a coffee mug.

"Well, you are the hero of the hour," I said. He snorted like I'd told a joke he found particularly lame. The news story the media had done on the hold up had made him the hero. His cell hadn't stopped ringing since the incident. Everyone wanted interviews. The way I saw it, he really was the hero. If he hadn't done what he did, we might not have gotten out of there. I'd told him as much. He'd changed the subject.

He managed to get into the jacket with minimal hisses and "ow"s, and he went over to the dresser mirror to check it out. "Sweet," he said. "I can't believe you actually did this." He looked happy, genuinely grateful. I'd watched him these last couple days, realized how much of that heartbroken kid who'd watched his hero walk away was still left in him. I don't know Rick Poole. I don't know what he'd gone through. I don't know what had been going on in his head. But I'd be lying if I said I've forgiven him. I couldn't imagine walking out on that kid. It made my blood boil thinking about it.

"Do I look like Joe Friday?" he asked, turning around in front of the mirror, and cranning his neck to see the yellow letters on the back of the navy windbreaker.

I looked at him. "_Dragnet_ was in Los Angeles, Riley."

"Whatever. It's cool, though, right?"

"Way cool." I shouldered his bag. "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah." He smiled softly, an uncharacteristically open smile. As he walked past, he suddenly reached out and gave me a quick, awkward, one-armed hug. He pulled back looking embarassed.

I tilted my head to the side, grinning at him. "What was that for? It's just a jacket."

When he looked up at me, he grinned, mimicking my words from the other night. "It wasn't the jacket."

I nodded. I got it. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably. "Well, come on. We better go rescue that bellhop. If he hasn't strangled Abi with the shoulder strap of her purse, you should probably give him a big tip."

I laughed. "You two are horrible with each other."

"We're supposed to be horrible with each other. She's my best friend's wife. I'm her husband's best friend...this is how our relationship is supposed to be."

"You love each other," I said. Those two fought like brother and sister. But in the end it was because they _were like_ brother and sister.

"Of course we do. Doi. She bought me _churros_."

"Come on," I laughed.

"You know," he said thoughtfully. "I never figured I'd get landed with a best friend who can name off all the Presidents' favorite meals, but thought a Blackberry was a fruit pie."

"Yeah, well. I never thought my best friend would wind up being a kid whose ideal woman is the redhead from _Mythbusters._" The mock glare and the elbow that embedded itself into my ribs didn't come as a surprise. Careful of his wounded arm, I draped an arm across the shoulders of my adopted little brother.

"You're hilarious, Ben. Freaking hilarious."

vvv

A/N: Well, that's the end of this baby. Hope it was satisfying enough for you, dear readers! If you have anything you want to see in another story or if you want to see more on Rick and that whole deal, please share, and I'll see what pops into my head. I would give you guys an idea of what I might write next, but we all know how wonderfully my predictions turn out (did you catch the sarcasm there?). So until next time! Blessings!


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